Numb
by lunalovemegood
Summary: A series of drabbles surrounding the death of London's most brilliant detective, and how John Watson struggles to hold it all together.
1. The Pain

**Title:** Numb

**Word count:** 216

**Summary:** A series of drabbles surrounding the death of London's most brilliant detective, and how John Watson struggles to hold it all of the broken pieces together.

**Warning:** Mentions of suicidal thoughts, plenty of angst, and some brief violence; also spoilers for the series three finale, "The Reichenbach Fall".

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters.

**A/N:** I was honestly in one of those weird moods where I decided write some serious Post-Reichenbach angst. I also wanted to try something a little different; in this one I decided to lay off the dialogue and play more off descriptions in order to tell the story. This is also the first in a series of daily drabbles I plan to post (it's already in it's completed form, but I honestly couldn't decide whether I wanted to divide the story into smaller pieces or to keep it in one piece; I ultimately decided to divide it up.) This is my first BBC Sherlock related story, enjoy!

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John sulked into the familiar setting of his flat at 221B Baker Street; his feet dragging across the ground like lead weights pulling him down to the earth. Every single part of his body ached. His eyes burned from the sleepless, lonely nights and the heavy tears, his throat was dry from the screams his body was wracked with in the middle of silent nights, his heart thumped at an irregular pace threatening to give out at any minute, and his ears rang with the sounds of Sherlock's last words.

The dust settled among the scattered belongings John couldn't bear to touch, a single glance in their direction and suddenly John's whole body was swallowed whole by the despair that was slowly tearing him apart at the seams. Few people came around the flat these days, and when they did it was clear they weren't there to mourn the detective's death, but to make sure John's brains weren't painting the walls. John knows he should move out, knows he should cut out all of the leftover traces of Sherlock's presence within his life, but he can't. Deep down inside John truly believes that Sherlock will return back to 221B Baker Street, it's the only shred of hope and happiness he has left within his tired soul.


	2. The Weight

**Title:** Numb

**Word count:** 334

**Summary:** A series of drabbles surrounding the death of London's most brilliant detective, and how John Watson struggles to hold it all together.

**Warning:** Mentions of suicidal thoughts, plenty of angst, and some brief violence; also spoilers for the series three finale, "The Reichenbach Fall".

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters.

**A/N:** Here's part two!

John does the same things he always does, but suddenly everything's become so empty and colorless. Songs on the radio all begin to sound the same, food has no taste, sentences on pages run together and have no meaning, T.V. channels all look like static to him, and even in sleep he can't escape his deepest fears. He writes a goodbye note to his readers on his blog, and has it saved in the queue just in case he finally gives into the sorrow that's slowly overtaking him, he makes sure to move the publishing date back each month. He's never told another living soul that it's become a part of his monthly routine.

Molly Hooper is the only regular visitor to his flat besides Mrs. Hudson. Watson realizes the two of them are more alike than they think. Molly's hopeless crush on Sherlock mirrors the deep-rooted love John felt for the detective. She makes sure his fridge is stocked, and his clothes are clean. Most of the time they sit down for tea, but seldom speak more than two words between the two of them; the silence overtakes them and the tea goes cold and untouched. Molly starts to believe John's wounds are finally healing when John finally keeps up a conversation with her. Later that day she mistakenly walks into Sherlock's bedroom to find the doctor silently sobbing on the detective's old bed. She simply says nothing as she feels her own throat seizing up, and the tears threatening to fall.

The gun's found its home in the drawer again. When Mrs. Hudson isn't hovering over him, and when Molly isn't preparing the tea; John's gone to the drawer and gripped the gun in his hand, he usually stares at it blankly and silently contemplates the simple solution to his nagging problem. He knows the bullet ripping through his skull would be enough to silence all of the suffering, put an end to this disease that's overcome him. Mycroft surprises John one afternoon when he's deep in hesitation, and John fumbles to replace the gun back in the drawer; he doesn't bother to muster a pathetic excuse, Mycroft can see right through every fiber of his being. The next time he's alone, the gun is gone.


	3. The Mask

**Title:** Numb

**Word count: **200

**Summary:** A series of drabbles surrounding the death of London's most brilliant detective, and how John Watson struggles to hold it all together.

**Warning: **Mentions of suicidal thoughts, plenty of angst, and some brief violence; also spoilers for the series three finale, "The Reichenbach Fall".

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters.

**A/N:** Here's part three!

John's life seems like a never-ending ocean of days, minutes turn to hours which turn into days and weeks and months and finally years. Three years go by, and John's gotten better at faking the happiness. The crack in mask is magically sealed when company's around. His tea time sessions with Molly are full of conversation, Mrs. Hudson worries less often, and Lestrade shows up to share a round of beers with the troubled Doctor almost weekly. They all whisper when he's not around. They all say it's as if he's a new person, as if he had never met Sherlock, and they truly believe John's pain has evaporated into thin air.

John doesn't tell them about the tears that still come at night, the nightmares that fill his mind every evening, the constant pain he feels searing him to the bone, and the meaningless blobs of words their conversations still are. Sherlock's belongings still litter the rooms, just as they always have. Mrs. Hudson believes that John sees them as his own items or that he's too lazy to do a thing about them, but in reality the man hasn't dared to touched a single one in three years.


	4. The Return

**Title:** Numb

**Word count: **200

**Summary:** A series of drabbles surrounding the death of London's most brilliant detective, and how John Watson struggles to hold it all together.

**Warning:** Plenty of angst, and some brief violence; also spoilers for the series three finale, "The Reichenbach Fall".

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters.

**A/N:** Here's part four!

It's a crisp November evening; John is situated on the couch blankly staring at the television trying to find some meaning in the program that plays before him. John's mind is on auto-pilot, his eyes stare forward, but his brain has no awareness of the world around him. There's a knock at the door. John doesn't notice. There's a knock again. John doesn't budge from his trance. Once more the knock rings out in the apartment, and finally John is snapped out of his daze. His heavy feet lead him to the front entrance.

The door opens and before him stands a face he'd never thought he'd live to see again. Suddenly the pain of the past three years is intensified ten-fold, and his body is wracked with anger and sobs. The familiar body embraces his lashing and twitching form tightly. He should feel some sort of relief but everything the person's saying to him sounds like complete gibberish, and the floor seems to be giving way to a giant hole that leads to the center of the earth. John looks into those piercing blue eyes and feels like screaming, but no sounds come out. SHERLOCK SHERLOCK SHERLOCK, the names scream out and cloud his mind. His vocal chords tighten up, and John reacts in the only way he knows how; his fist clenches, his arm cocks back and suddenly finds solid contact with a face.


	5. The Recovery

**Title:** Numb

**Word count**: 282

**Summary:** A series of drabbles surrounding the death of London's most brilliant detective, and how John Watson struggles to hold it all of the broken pieces together.

**Warning:** Mentions of suicidal thoughts, plenty of angst, and some brief violence; also spoilers for the series three finale, "The Reichenbach Fall". Slight slash if you squint a bit.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters.

**A/N:** I'm sorry about not being as consistent as I should when it comes to posting these drabbles, here's a little Mother's Day gift for you! And as far as I know now, this is the end of the drabbles for this series, but I'm definitely considering doing a second series set in the same universe I've created, it would be based upon the recovery of Sherlock/Jaaaawn's relationship. But thank you all for your kind words and your "favoriting" and most of all thanks for reading!

It takes months before things begin returning to their original state, but even then John's afraid to look at Sherlock for more than two seconds out of fear he'll disappear just as he did before. The doctor is convinced that if he so much as touches Sherlock for more than a brief moment, he'll be crushed to dust and float away with the coming winds. John convinces himself that this is some weird sort of horrific dream he hasn't awakened from.

At first he's distant, the two share awkward silences and glances and everything seems so foreign to him once again. It's when John wakes from a particularly terrifying nightmare and finds Sherlock at his bedside that things begin to shift into their old ways. But when John finally snaps and tells Sherlock everything he'd been building into a crumbling tower for the past three years on that cold and lonely night, that Sherlock realizes the extent of the damage that's been done to the poor man; the floodgates have finally opened and their relationship is drowning in the murky waters of the past.

Sherlock whispers the shared pain he felt in his own absence in John's life in his ears, he tells him that the world almost seemed to stop turning, and nothing was of interest to him anymore. He swallows back the tears he knows are coming. He realizes that soon John will come to find the familiar comfort in the warmth of his arms, without worrying that maybe one day soon they'll slip away. Sherlock knows that it'll take time to gain his best friend back, but he can't stand the wait and that's what truly tears him apart while he's held tightly in John's arms.


End file.
